


To Slay A Dragon

by inwhispersandscreams



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inwhispersandscreams/pseuds/inwhispersandscreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an idiot, Rose had decided, a complete <i>idiot</i>. What kind of person took a word so close to heart that they went and sought out a damn <i>dragon</i> to slay? An <i>idiot</i>, that’s who. Someone who didn’t seem to realise that his dying would be awfully... well, just <i>awful</i>. And this was coming from <i>her</i>, who always called Prince William an idiot, and often to his face at that. But the world wouldn’t seem right if he wasn’t there, stirring up trouble everywhere he went. And this world was empty enough without him ripping another hole through it by going off and dying on some silly, little quest to prove himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Slay A Dragon

He was an idiot, Rose had decided, a complete _idiot_. What kind of person took a word so close to heart that they went and sought out a damn _dragon_ to slay? An _idiot_ , that’s who. Someone who didn’t seem to realise that his dying would be awfully... well, just _awful_. And this was coming from _her_ , who always called Prince William an idiot, and often to his face at that. But the world wouldn’t seem right if he wasn’t there, stirring up trouble everywhere he went. And this world was empty enough without him ripping another hole through it by going off and _dying_ on some silly, little quest to prove himself. So _what_ that someone had called him junior? Was it really so bad to be likened to his father? The amount of times that Rose had been likened to her mother, and even her father, was beyond count, but she never took it to mean that she should hop on off to Maleficent’s Dark Fortress and offer herself to take a sleeping curse. If you were smart, you didn’t let these things be fetters around your feet, but compliments to your quality of character – but then again, she _did_ call Will an idiot for a reason.

“What are you looking for?” Alexandra came up beside Rose, peering out the glass window with her as if she too, might see whatever it was that had captured Rose’s attention. Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Rose turned away, placing herself firmly back in a seat that faced away from the window, and all temptation there was to check for Will’s return every few minutes. If he really was going to go kill a dragon, she couldn’t expect him to return so soon after his departure. And really, that was just inconsiderate of him! Queen Snow and Prince Consort David would be fretting themselves silly all the time while he was off gallivanting about the countryside, and she was going to have to console them. Rose’s fingers pressed themselves, without conscious permission, deep into the material of her dress as she contemplated how long Will could be away. Days likely, but if he got himself _lost_ , that could turn into _weeks_. And she wasn’t there to help pick him out of the right royal mess he’d found himself in, like all the times when they were children. Her jaw clenched, her fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as the worry gnawed at her nerves.

Of course, she wasn’t worried about him for _her_ sake. No, she was worried about him for Queen Snow’s sake. Will and her were just friends – _barely_ friends after all the times when he broke her dolls and accidentally set the animals into a rage and made an utter mess out of the entire courtyard. She’d always thrown her hands into the air and pronounced him beyond redemption, but their world was small, and so she always let him come and play cards with her, and sit beside her at the dinners their parents shared and entertain one another. They were _friends_ , even though Alexandra seemed to find that fact very amusing and seemed to be holding back giggles every time Rose told her as such.

“He won’t be back for a while yet Rose,” Alexandra noted, taking a seat beside her. Even though the corners of her mouth were tipped upwards, her tone was serious, and for that, Rose was thankful. Alexandra was a joyful sort, as if to compensate for the sorrow that had surrounded her since conception, right til her birth in another world. _Storybrooke_ was already a fable of sorts in their world, a half remembered dream that was lost from memory with every passing second, but they knew better than to think of it as just a tale.

“I know.”

“So you shouldn’t be looking out the window for him yet, you’ll just worry about him for no reason.”

“For no reason?” she exclaimed. How was there _no reason_ to worry about Will? He was always doing silly things and getting himself into trouble! Like that time when she was so _furious_ at him and she was missing her mother’s rose garden like it was a hole inside of her, so he’d gone and found a rose for her. But no, he couldn’t simply _buy_ a rose like any noble might – _no_ , he had to go and pick it and just simply _steal_ it. He’d ended up covered in scratches from the rose thorns, with the woman of the cottage batting at him with a broom and her two dogs on his heels, snapping their jaws at him. “He’s off slaying a dragon! Am I meant to be worrying about the _dragon_ instead?”

Alexandra laughed, moving from her chair to come to Rose and hug her warmly. “He’ll be just fine, Rose. His father trained him to fight himself, and he’s already slain a dragon.”

But the worry did not abate. It bit at her insides and twisted them into a knot that she couldn’t stand and kept her from sleep. The only thing that made her feel better was to push her covers aside and go to the northern window of her room. He’d headed off via the western gate, but Rose had seen the plans when Will hadn’t thought she was looking – the dragon den was in the north, towards the mountains, where caves were many and there were more places to hide than one man could ever hope to search, even for a large beast. On the windowsill, she placed a small beeswax candle, and placed by it the last remnants of that rose Will had fetched her, before striking a match and lighting it.

Rose had been told once that wishes had their own kind of power. Another time, she had been told that candles lit for the sake of others always drew them back home, a beacon lighting the path away from danger and back towards safety. Rose wasn’t sure how much she believed in that, but it couldn’t hurt Will. Maybe this way, if all the things that she’d heard were true, she’d be helping him still, even if he were far away from her. The thought eased the knot in her gut, though her dreams were still restless.

The candle burned for three days without fail, and when the wick burned low, Rose simply replaced it.

 

The smell of ash was _everywhere_. Will expected it on the rocks and the ground, but it seemed to be in the water of the summer springs that flowed down the mountain, and in the breeze. It meant, of course, that they’d come to the right place – this was truly the lair of a dragon – but the smell seemed to choke him. He longed for clear air and blue skies, not this damned grey smog that rested around them. As far as the eye could see, there was only smoke and ash and ruin.

He wanted to turn back – truly, some part of him did. But a voice inside him drowned it out, a voice that told him he’d already come this far, so why not see it through? That if he couldn’t do this, then he wasn’t worthy of being his father’s son, that he would _never_ be able to live up to the weight of his royal lineage. That even though, his parents would welcome him home with open arms, there would always be that memory of failure to do as he promised, to do what he’d set out to do. That was what hurt the most to think about, that his word might suffer if he chose to give in to cowardice. He didn’t want to be a liar, or a coward, and to turn back would make him both. He could hear Rose all too clearly within his mind, her sensibilities telling him that it was his own fault that he’d found himself in this position. _If you actually started to think before you_ did _things, Will, you wouldn’t find yourself in half the situations that you do_. But doing all the well thought out things hadn’t ever seemed to be nearly as good as doing the things that came to him suddenly, in bursts of inspiration that seemed to light up his mind. He always seemed to get the brightest smiles from Rose when he didn’t think about _how_ to do it, and besides, when he _did_ think about how to get her to smile for him, it always felt wrong, too calculating and manipulative. He couldn’t do that to her.

“Have the others come back from scouting an eastward path?” Will asked, turning towards Sir John. John was but a few years older than Will, but he’d proven his mettle over and over. His father was Little John, and just like his father, John was large and burly. But his eyes were keen, and no one was better at sighting the tracks in the ground than John was – John who was half raised in the forest and had learned how to fight with a staff that his father had carved him. The staff had been replaced by a steel sword, but John had lost none of his skill with it. Will still remembered sparring with him and getting knocked to the ground through one of John’s well placed blows. He’d liked that about John; even though Will was a prince, it didn’t stop John from treating him like any of the other lads who were training to become knights and learn to be warriors. Too many times, the others would let Will win with half hearted blows, but Will didn’t _want_ that. He wanted to prove himself to be worthy of his parents’ reputation and throne. He wanted to prove himself to be as great a prince as he had dreamed he could be as a child.

John shook his head, one hand scratching at the dark stubble growing along his jaw. “Not yet. Reckon if we wait any longer before we go down the path, then the damned dragon’s going to know we’re here, especially with the wind about to turn.”

“The wind’s turning?”

John nodded. “And if the rest of the boys can’t find an eastward path into the den, then we’ve got no option to come from upwind. The dragon will smell us from a mile off, and be all too ready for us.”

Will cursed, one of the words that his sister had brought with her from the second world. He had no idea what it meant, but it felt good when he said it, sharp and blunt and crude, taking the edge off his nerves as he contemplated how he could do it. Rose would tell him to _think_ , and John was telling him that they _couldn’t_ wait, and how was he meant to choose between the two voices that always led him right? If he didn’t wait, and got himself injured, Rose and his parents beside would lecture him on the virtue of waiting and thinking. But if he did wait, and got himself injured still, then they’d _still_ lecture him, but this time on the importance of recognising the _right moment_. No matter which decision he made, he’d just get it wrong. The only way to get it right would be to kill the dragon, and get out without as much as a scratch on his armour.

Which, to be bluntly honest, Will was thinking was maybe a bit of an ask.

“What would you do, John?”

The elder boy shrugged. “I wouldn’t have come out here in the first place, my lord. Dragon wasn’t doing anything to us.”

“Yet.” Will gritted his teeth. Rose had said the exact same thing before he’d left, and his reply had been the same – it wasn’t doing anything _yet_. Was he meant to just wait around til the day that it decided it wanted to burn down a few villages and cause mass panic? Everyone _knew_ dragons were dangerous, and terrible, _and_ uncontrollable. Waiting would just cause someone to be hurt. Or many people to be hurt, if the dragon went straight to the castle, breathing fire down onto the stone. It could burn his parents, or Princess Alexandra, or even Rose...

“Right. There’s no time like the present – let’s go kill a dragon.” He said it with much more confidence than he felt, but his sword hand was steady as it clutched at the pommel. A length of white lace tangled around his wrist as the breeze stirred, a parting gift from Rose some months back when he’d been about to enter a tourney. He’d had no idea why he’d asked for her favour, other than it was expected of him to ask some high born lady for her favour, but it had won him luck, and the lace had stayed with him ever since, tied around the pommel of his sword like a blessing. The white had been dirtied over time, marred by dirt and sweat and blood from where he’d kissed the material in thanks with a bloodied mouth, but Will didn’t dare to take it off. It was his luck, and he had a sinking feeling that he’d need it this time.

With a nod to John, Will walked forwards, straight towards the dragon’s den, the smell of ash and decay growing only stronger with each step he took. _Give me a little more luck Rose, just a little more_.

 

She was in the rose garden when the news came, sitting amongst the blooms with a book in hand and the sun shining down upon her. The weather had been fair the past few weeks, but it seemed cruel to be, when her nerves were a jumbled mess and her lip bitten raw with worry. Rain, she would have liked, rain to put out fires from dragon’s breath, or snow even. They said that anything cold could slay a dragon, for they were nothing but heat and fire, and what was the greatest enemy of fire but water? _He should have waited for winter_.

The list of things Will _should_ have down grew steadily longer the more the Prince so much as _breathed_. He shouldn’t have gone in the first place – it wasn’t even his own _country_ he was trying to valiantly defend, but _hers_. But this was Will; he always did seem to have more courage than intellect, even as a child. That, Rose had learned very quickly since she had met Will.

Her parents should have forbid him from taking up the task. _His_ parents should have forbidden him. But instead they’d probably told him that he was doing a noble thing, that he was helping their friends in the Sands. And they were right, Rose thought bitterly, in a way. Slaying a dragon before it hurt anyone _was_ a good thing, for once they were stirred, they were harder still to capture or slay, but it was still so _silly_. The Sands had their own army and their own knights, and they didn’t need Will to go off and fight dragons for them just so he could be like his father. Rose bit down on her bottom lip again, guilt settling in her stomach. She hadn’t _meant_ to make him want to go off and slay dragons like his father before him. That wasn’t even anything close to what she’d said in the first place! But he’d had to be silly, and hear things that weren’t there, let his heart rule his head and make her worry because he was being _foolish_.

But she wasn’t going to think on it. She’d thought on Will and his self appointed task in the last few weeks since he’d started carrying on about it, and no more. She would finally concentrate on this damned book and finish it, and not think about princes who did what their gut told them and never what their mind did.

She stared resolutely at the words on the page, but the letters didn’t seem to make sense to her. She saw the shape of them, the curves and lines, recognised each a and i and e, but her mind seemed to wander away towards the mountains just before she could comprehend their placement in a word. Her brow furrowed with frustration as Rose turned on the bench, placing her back towards the mountains and concentrating so hard on the book, she thought it might have burst suddenly into flame if she had a piece of magic inside of her. _The deserts oft seem..._

“Rose! Rose!”

“ _What?_ ” Rose exclaimed, jerking her head up from the pages. “I was _just_ concentrating on reading and not worrying about Will, and now I’ve got to do it all again! You know it’s quite hard to do when I’ve got the mountains in sight Alexandra!”

The princess laughed, coming closer to Rose and snatching the book lightly from her words. “Then by all means, don’t worry anymore! Will’s and his men have returned – they’re making their way through the castle walls now. Can’t you hear the people cheering?”

“What?” Rose was on her feet and running from the garden and through the stone passages of the palace until she found a window that overlooked the town sheltered in the palace’s outer walls and peered out of it. Bodies milled around, and a parade of horses and riders were proceeding through the crowd. _They_ were cheering, she could hear it now, now that she was away from the solitude and peace of the rose garden, a hubbub of voices raised in celebration. Behind the train of riders, a large cart was pulled by two well built horses, the cargo in the back hidden by a large brown sheet. So, he had been victorious – Rose exhaled in sudden relief, the knot inside of her releasing. But the cheek of him, to make her worry right up until he arrived back home! And his parents too! Didn’t he think to send a messenger back, a note, a pigeon, even a damned _smoke signal_? He could have _died_ for all they’d known! He’d probably thought it was better this way, or something like that.

She could kill him. It didn’t matter that he’d just returned from slaying a dragon. She was going to kill him for making her worry for so long about it.

But _after_ the due courtesies were paid to him. He _had_ killed a dragon for them, after all.

The courtesies were paid in the throne room, as traditional. Queen Snow and her consort David stood to the right of Rose’s parents, wide smiles on their face, as the wide oak doors parted to allow the entry of Will and his party into the hall. Other nobles, all attired in various fineries and jewels, parted and pressed against the white palace walls as two boys led the two heavy horses pulling the cart inside. It was obvious that they had not had time to change themselves – all the men smelt vaguely of smoke and sweat, and a mixture of dirt and what Rose assumed was ash marked their faces and clothing. Worse, many of them bore cuts on their skin and leather clothing, streaks of dark red amongst the dirt and ash.

Will came at the back of the party with his friend John, a wide smile on his face that seemed to mirror that of his parents, despite the myriad of cuts on both his hands and arms, and his face. Rose studied him carefully as he walked forward, noting the deep cut on his forehead, the horizontal slash of it, and the small patch of white that clung to his scabbard. No, not his scabbard, the pommel of his sword, like a... _it couldn’t be_. She’d given that him months before.

Ignoring all the traditions, he bounded past his men and towards them, only to be enveloped into a hug by both parents. _See, they’re proud of you just as you are_ , she wanted to tell him, but Rose held back her tongue. This wasn’t the place for trying to make Will see some common sense. As soon as he broke away, he moved back and bowed low to King Phillip and Queen Aurora, standing straight only to see Rose’s father offering him a hand. “You’ve done this country a great service, Prince Will,” her father said, shaking Will’s hand. “We will not forget it.”

“Thank you,” Rose followed, her tone a touch too dry to be proper, earning a sharp glance from her mother. “The Sands will not forget your service, or your willingness to help.”

His grin seemed to falter as he looked at the stubborn set of her mouth and the small furrow between her brows. “Thank you, my lady. The honour was mine,” he returned, but the words felt hollow in her ears.

 

It was a wyvern, not a dragon. Rose had seen that the moment the cloth had been taken from the cart and the form of the beast unveiled. It had only two legs, and its tail was long and decorated by sharp spikes, and was a deal smaller than a dragon. But wyverns were dangerous in their own way, with poisoned teeth and a breath of fire if they didn’t care to simply eat you. The wings were smaller, but still as strong, and when the beasts took it in their mind to attack, they were vicious and slippery as eels because of their smaller stature. _I should have known_. Dragons were for countries that had endless green fields populated by flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, where food was always within sight. Wyverns were more like snakes, and more suited for the Sands, where they had to be quick to eat the food that came through the expanse of the Sands. Life outside the oasis’s present throughout the Sands was harder, and the beasts needed to be harder still for it.

All this trouble and worry, for this beast. She half wanted it to be more – bigger, more dangerous, more of a problem – just so she felt it could justify the worry that had gnawed at her, and it was already a dangerous enough creature.

The oak doors opened once more, with their customary _creak_ in greeting, and Rose glanced upwards, catching sight of Will. He’d changed into more appropriate court attire and washed the dirt from his skin, making the cut on his forehead seem only more garish in contrast.  “You didn’t seem happy with me before,” he said as he closed the door and then came alongside her, staring down at the reptilian head of the dragon. They were no horns on it, and that too, Rose noted. Her mother and father had told her of Maleficent, and how she could turn herself at will into a great, terrible dragon, all dark scales and flame so hot it burned blue and green. That form had had horns too, great sharp things that could impale as easily as slice you to ribbons, horns like the devil himself. Another reason why this was not a dragon, but a wyvern. How would Will fare against a dragon of his homeland, Rose wondered, or against Maleficent? She shuddered in the sudden fear of it. No, Maleficent was dead and gone, a ghost in another world. She would not haunt her family again.

“Was I meant to be?” Was she meant to be happy that he’d gone off and done a stupid thing and come back hurt? She was happy that he wasn’t _dead_ , of course, but if he’d just been _smarter_ , then he wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place! And he had the nerve to smile and grin like he hadn’t been hurt at all. _How did you get that cut Will?_ she wanted to ask, _how many other cuts did you get trying to play the hero when you didn’t need to at all?_

“I should hope so. I slayed a dragon, Rose!”

“It’s a _wyvern_ , Will – two legs, one spiked tail. Completely different from a dragon,” she answered sharply. _Don’t get arrogant and bullheaded and face on dragons now. I’m so tired of hearing about dragons and men having to fight them._ “If I wanted someone to talk to about dragon slaying, I’d ask your _sister_.”

His eyes darkened as he took in the words. It had been the wrong thing to say, and she’d known it the moment the words had started to form on her tongue, but she’d let the words anyway. She’d had so much worry over this, and now he was here, all smiles and excitement over slaying a dragon, not at all mindful of the fact that he might have _died_ , and she _needed_ to let the words out. She needed to give him a piece of all the anger she felt, because she couldn’t contain it herself. Why was he always so _stupid_? “So, what, you’re not happy with me because I didn’t slay a _technical_ dragon? Should I go and hunt down another for you?”

“That’s not it at _all_ ,” she huffed. “Forget it.”

They lapsed into silence, but didn’t move, simply stood and looked down at the carcass of the slain beast. In death, the lips of the wyvern had been pulled slightly back and the jaw gone lax, revealing lines of sharp yellowed teeth. For a moment, Rose could almost see the scene before her, the tail of the wyvern moving back and forth, a deadly weapon ready to strike, and the teeth of the creature moving towards her. There was death in moving closer to the creature, death by spike or teeth, and no safe place to hide from it but to retreat. Yet somehow, Will had managed to drive a sword into the belly of it, and escape with little more than cuts along his arms and one along his forehead. He was skilled, she’d admit that. He won tourneys and in mock duels in the yard when he was training with his father and the master at arms.

“You should have sent a messenger on, to tell everyone you were safe,” she told him at last, when the silence seemed too heavy for her to bear. She didn’t like the feeling between them, the angry words and the frowns and the angry lines of their mouths, but he always made her feel this way, either angry or worried or exasperated at him. He made her nerves knot and her temper flare.

Will looked at her with raised brows. “Were you worried about me?” he asked, and the words were soft.

A blush rose on her cheeks. She had been worried , but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. “A princess is never worried. You parents were though. You’re their son.”

“I didn’t really think about it.” He scratched the back of his neck as he ducked his head. Rose’s mouth parted in shock. _He didn’t_ think _about it?_ “Everyone was just so happy to have done it, and to be going home.”

“And _this_ is your problem Will, you _never_ think!” She couldn’t take it anymore; she couldn’t take another moment of him stretching her nerves to breaking point. Turning on her heel, Rose strode from the room and didn’t look back.

 

She’d gone to the doctor of the castle herself, and asked for the salve. Though he’d already seen the cuts on Will himself, and pronounced them as shallow (which, she was told, lined up perfectly with Will’s story that they had simply been grazed by the very edges of the spikes of the wyvern’s tails), still Rose demanded the salve and didn’t leave until she had a small container of it and a soft rag in her hands. That was the difficult part of it all – gaining entry to Will’s chambers wasn’t at all. Even when they fought, he never was one to tell her to go away and forbid her from seeing him. He was generous with her in that way; he never pushed her away.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing a finger at the salve in her hands as he opened the door for her.

“My apology. Now sit down on the bed will you, and roll up your sleeves.”

He did exactly as she ordered, a half grin on his features that leaned a bit too closely to smugness, but Rose made no comment on it, only dipped the tip of the rag into the salve and beginning to dab it gently onto his wounds as efficiently as possible. She left the thinnest cuts barely, the ones that were not even an unbroken cut, and barely a hair’s width thick, but focused on the others, saving the forehead for last. It was wider than the others, but not that much deeper, she noted. That cut must have been caused by a larger spike from the wyvern’s tail, if Will had gotten too close to it.

“Didn’t know you were going to doctor me, Rose,” Will commented happily as she dabbed the tip of the rag into the salve again. She glared at him, applying it to his forehead with just a hint too much pressure, hearing the slight hiss of pain escape from between Will’s teeth. “All right, I get the message.”

“Good. I’m just doing a service. We can’t have you with a scar now, can we?”

She didn’t need to look down to see the smile playing on his face once again. “I thought the doctor said the cuts were shallow.”

Rose didn’t answer, just continued her work. He’d fetched her a rose because she was homesick once, she forced herself to remember, came back all scratched and bleeding but presented the rose to her with a smile and said that he’d hoped it made her happy. She’d carried that rose with her back home, after drying it in sunlight and pressing it between the pages of her books so she could keep it for months to come, even when there were plenty of other roses around her. For all of his arrogance and attempts at charms, he was also that boy, who would do things just to see you smile. When he wasn’t frustrating her endlessly, he could be nice, good natured, sweet even. It was just when he was frustrating her that she forgot all these things, and spoke recklessly and things like _this_ happened. He went to kill a dragon and got hurt, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to be happy for him doing things so dangerous when he hadn’t truly thought about it in the slightest. He just put himself in harm’s way, and for what?

Looking at her handiwork, Rose thought it was enough. There was a covering of the salve along the cuts, from beginning to end of them, and it wasn’t too thin. Placing the salve and rag by his table with his books and his abandoned sword ( _trust_ Will to put his _sword_ with his books), she returned to sit beside him on his bed, gently offering out a length of light blue material. “Here, I thought you could...” She paused as Will sat up suddenly, his attention focused on her in a way that made her wonder if she had done something wrong. “I saw your last favour was dirty, so I thought you might like another. It must very old by now,” she explained.

But he didn’t take it, just _stared_ at it like a thunderstruck fool. Rose nibbled at the very edge of her lip, waiting for him to just _take_ it – it wasn’t _that_ much – but he didn’t, and said _nothing_. “Unless you don’t want it,” she added. “I don’t want to take the place of your lady, whoever she is.”

“ _No!_ No, it’s... it’s still the favour you gave me from the tourney.” He seemed to suddenly spring to life once more, taking the material from her hands and running it between his fingers. Will looked up at her in surprise. “It’s silk.”

She nodded. “I thought you could use something gentle and soft in the middle of all the violence, just to remind you that it exists.”

“Thank you.”

Rose expected him just to hold it in his hands, maybe place it aside for the moment, but instead Will stood and walked towards his table, picking up his sword and tying the silk around the pommel immediately. But it didn’t replace the white lace she’d given him first, simply joined it there. If she gave him more favours, Rose wondered, would they all join each other on the pommel of his sword, until it was decorated with pieces of her? It was a strange thought, one that made her mouth dry in contemplation of it.

“You know, I didn’t mean it that way Will, what I said. I didn’t mean you had to go slay a dragon to prove yourself.” She fiddled with the material of the dress as she said it, aware of Will’s back to her and his presence at the table.

“But you know how much I hate it. Hate the word, hate the weight of it, hate it _all_. You shouldn’t have said it.”

The quietness in his voice made the guilt return, only to be refuted by the fact that she’d never meant it like that! It was one word, one simple word, and he’d taken it out of her mouth and turned it into something that she’d never meant at all! “You _know_ I didn’t mean it _anything_ like that! You called me little princess! I’m older than you, Will! I was just trying to get you back for it, not to make you feel bad.”

“You called me junior!”

She sighed in utter exasperation and stood up so she could join him at the table. He didn’t stride away from her, but she could see he was close to it. Instead, he glared at her for a moment, before his mouth softened and he looked at her almost tiredly. He could be stubborn all he liked, but they both knew when it came right down to it, she was the stubbornest out of them. “Is that _really_ a bad thing? You always take it like the world’s against you, but it’s _not_.” Rose’s voice softened then. “I never meant that. I just meant to remind you that I’m older, and not your _little_ princess. Besides, you don’t think I’ve been likened to my parents? It’s a _good_ thing Will, it means you’re _like_ them. It makes you brave and noble.”

“Are you giving me a compliment, Rose?” That smile was back, small though it was, the one that had that hint of smug that made her huff and want to say _no_ back to him immediately. But she’d already hurt him enough for one day, and this was her attempt to apologise, so she bit back the words and reigned in her temper.

“Well, I suppose I should,” she replied airily. If she said it with too much gusto, his ego would only inflate tenfold. “You _did_ kill a wyvern.”

He scowled at her. “Dragon.”

Rose’s answer was a grin and a simple, “Two legs, spiked tail – _wyvern_.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is Charming Thorn, a ship borne courtesy of Annie/shewhodestroysthelight at tumblr. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
